


his heart was a stone, but then his hands roam

by derogatory



Category: Hustle Cat
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Light Bondage, M/M, Riding, happy birthday trash cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:24:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7283401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derogatory/pseuds/derogatory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're into that, huh?" Avery manages a weak, sympathetic laugh. "Actually given all the other weird stuff around here, I guess it's not totally surprising." He reaches with his free hand for Graves' other wrist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	his heart was a stone, but then his hands roam

"If this continues, I'll be forced to dock your pay."

It takes Avery a few seconds to register hearing this in the aftermath of the kiss, his arms slung around Graves' neck. 

"Uh. What?"

Graves explains, "If you insist on shirking your duties in the cafe to come upstairs with me, those distractions will be reflected on your paycheck."

"You're kidding." Avery's face looks like Mochi's when he's been given dry food. 

By now it's second nature for Avery to follow Graves after his occasional staff pep talk. It's not like they're inundated with customers on non-Jelly Donut days, so it isn't like he's abandoning his cat-wrangling responsibilities. Also, it's probably good for company morale to have a, uh, good relationship with your boss. Though Avery admits making out with Graves _probably_ isn't the 'good relationship' that argument had in mind. But hey, he always was ahead of the curve when it came to this place! Anyways, it was only for a couple minutes, and nobody's complained. Excluding Reese, but when wasn't Reese complaining? The guy's favorite hobby probably was busting chops and killing joy. 

Graves reaches for him and, even if he's kinda annoyed, Avery leans into his palm. Graves' thumb strokes just above the pulseline of his neck. 

"It's unfair to your co-workers."

"It's unfair to your boyfriend!" Avery says indignantly, although it comes out more shrill than anything else. Graves laughs on a soft, quiet exhale and Avery tips his mouth up to meet it. "You won't do that," he adds, pretty sure.

"I will. I make many difficult choices for the good of this cafe," Graves replies. His protesting is made slightly less convincing by letting Avery walk their bodies towards the sofa. "As enjoyable as your company is, I can't afford to look like I show you—" He pauses when the back of his legs hit the couch, dropping to a seat. "—preferential treatment." Avery, impressed he managed to maneuver them around the coffee table, follows him down, knees braced on either side of Graves' hips.

"It doesn't look like anything," Avery coaxes between kisses. "Nobody's here to see this." His fingers graze along Graves' jawline. "For all they know," Graves' mouth opens against his. "We could be talking about work things."

"My employees are rather bright." Graves' voice is heady as he turns to let Avery pepper kisses down his throat. Avery hums against his skin, counting himself in the compliment. "I doubt they'd suspect us of something so innocent."

Avery twists, shifting to urge Graves to lie back over the sofa. Avery blows a stray lock of hair from his face, perched over his employer's hips. 

Downstairs, the espresso machine hums to life, drowning out the sound of Graves' shallow breathing.

"They're not gonna suspect anything," Avery says, crawling along his body to plant a few comforting kisses around his mouth. Graves lifts a hand and Avery catches it, loosely pinning it against the arm of the sofa, over Graves' head. It wasn't planned but Avery feels the reaction against his thigh immediately.

He blinks, lifting his head.

Graves stares back, heavy lidded and challenging, the barrel of his chest rising in a slow, focused way against Avery's. His fingers twitch, and he can feel Graves' pulse pounding beneath his skin. Avery watches him carefully before pressing his weight down again, trapping Graves' wrist with more force this time. A slow, uncertain noise slips past Graves' mouth and his back arches.

"Whoa," Avery breathes and wraps his fingers tight, drinking in the sudden change in his boss's demeanor. When he's at the cafe, Graves' face usually looks somewhere between mildly interested and vaguely off-putting. But the levelling-up of their relationship from employee to pseudo-magic-apprentice to boyfriend has given Avery some insight into the other faces Graves makes. Like the gentle honesty he wore when he struggled to explain the curse. The look of wild fear that Nacht would follow through on his threats. The look when he noticed Avery climbing the steps two at a time behind him, his face stripped of ceremony. Affectionate.

And now this look. It knocks the wind out of Avery, watching Graves' lips part and his hips lift helplessly. He's not moving to get free of that half-hearted hold. He's reacting to it, all instinctual shifting and hot breaths. It lances through Avery, sends his blood pooling low in his abdomen.

"You're into that, huh?" Avery manages a weak, sympathetic laugh. "Actually given all the other weird stuff around here, I guess it's not totally surprising." He reaches with his free hand for Graves' other wrist.

"Don't change the subject," Graves argues, tugging his hands free. His words hang around minimalist furniture, ringing sharply off the metal sculptures hanging off the walls. Avery pauses with his hand still in the air while Graves adds, "I think you'd better get back downstairs before someone notices how long you've been gone."

Avery sits back on his heels and observes the man splayed out under him, considering.

He grins. 

"Yeah, no. It's really hard to take you seriously when you're blushing like that." Pointing it out only makes Graves blush harder. And since he hasn't calmed down anywhere else, Avery steels his nerves and settles back down against his chest.

They haven't done it like this. In bed and the shower, yeah, but both times Avery had been the one on the bottom. Sure, he'd imagined it a couple dozen other ways; counter, bathtub, floor, wall. And that's not counting his whole _other_ list of fantasies they could do in the cafe after-hours. And yeah, the couch in Graves' apartment had been on that list, but never with Graves under him and moaning like this. Avery feels a momentary twinge of guilt. Wait, what does that make him?? A pillow princess at best, a bad boyfriend at worst.

"Sorry," he mumbles, forgetting Graves has no way of hearing his inner monologue. Maybe Graves took it for apology for Avery pinning his wrists while Avery leans in for a kiss. Graves opens against his mouth with a weak shiver. 

Avery leans his weight on his arms and— yeah, no wonder Graves was worried about the other people in the cafe suspecting: the guy is _loud_. Avery's not entirely sure if he just imagined hearing the espresso machine stop early. He could picture Hayes standing beside it, and if the barista still had his cat ears, they'd be pointed in attention, listening for the source of the sound. Avery wonders if his formerly feline friends still retain some if their catlike attributes. Although it wouldn't take animal hearing abilities to hear Graves groan like that. And hearing it up close? It's a lot.

"Okay, so," Avery murmurs at last, drinking up the sounds his boyfriend makes. Graves stares back with pupils huge, expression sweetly attentive. "I gotta get some things."

"You," Graves clears his throat. "You have to get back to work." His order sounds more like a plea and Avery smirks, regretfully climbing off him.

"Oh, I'm gonna." Avery laughs at the protesting noises he leaves behind.

His jeans are worn out enough it doesn't chafe bad as it could. There's finally an upside to being too broke to buy new clothes! Avery adjusts himself as he heads into the other room, retrieving what he needs from the bedside table and surveying the rest of his surroundings. The one time it would be better if Graves wasn't such a damn neatfreak. Countess Dracula blinks disinterestedly back at him from the center of the bed. She must have retreated in here from her cat tower at some point during their necking. That's probably for the best; Avery's not totally sure he could carry on with what he's got planned if he has an audience.

He walks back into the main room, and points warningly when he sees Graves sitting up.

"Lie down," he orders, hoping it sounds commanding. It doesn't. 

Graves turns in his seat to watch Avery step into the kitchen.

"Looking for something?" he asks. He's trying to keep his voice casual, but in it Avery can tell Graves spots the container of lube he's carrying.

"I can't hold you down like that the whole time," Avery calls and is kinda sure he hears a sharp gasp even across the room. "There's gotta be something that I could— got it!" He straightens to his full height, striding triumphantly back with an empty can of soda in his hand. Thank god he had a craving for non-bean based caffeine the other day.

If Graves had cat ears they'd probably be pressed to his head. 

"Did you get that from the garbage?" he asks, aghast.

"I left it on the counter for recycling," Avery replies helpfully, standing beside the sofa. "You really gotta get better at separating your trash."

"That is an outrageous accusation from you," Graves argues, voice losing what little venom it has when Avery's magic unravels the aluminum. It's really sweet that even after Avery's early success with the book, in tutoring the other employees in magic, and their victory against Nacht, Graves still looks psyched when Avery shows the slightest magical aptitude. Usually, Graves dispenses praise with a flowery remark and some grand gesture towards his well-behaving staff. But to Avery, that praise always comes with a look, a doting stare. Avery isn't used to that just yet, and even less used to what it does to him below the belt.

He swallows hard. "Lie down." 

Graves does it this time.

Avery sets the container on the table in plain view and lays back down over Graves' chest. He guides Graves' arms up past his head, magic sending the strips of metal after them. When Avery pulls his hands away, the aluminum hurriedly coils around Graves' wrists, its sharp edges glinting in the midday sun. The makeshift binds tighten and Graves tenses with a sudden grimace.

"Oh crap, I didn't think— it might be sharp," Avery stammers. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes." The way Graves says it goes straight to Avery's lap. He knows better than to loosen them now.

Hoping Graves is too worked up with his new bindings to notice Avery's hands are shaking, Avery quickly shimmies out of his pants and boxers. Slinging a leg over Graves' side, he considers which of his remaining clothing items looks more obscene; his shirt or his socks. Or maybe the worst part is when he drizzles the lube over one hand and eases it between his own legs. 

Graves' double-colored stare is rapt as one of Avery's finger gingerly slides inside, working himself loose. 

Avery gulps. Maybe he spoke too soon about not wanting an audience.

Reese's voice lilts up the stairs, words almost comprehensible as they permeate through the walls, carried by bossiness.

"He sounds close," Graves says thinly.

" _You_ sound close," Avery teases, looking between each spot where Graves shows strain; from his hands straining against the tie at his wrists, to his cock pressing at the front of his slacks. If he lifted his hips from the couch, Graves could brush against Avery for some much needed friction, but he doesn't. Graves is restrained in all ways, with or without binding him. It throbs through Avery.

"What?" Avery grins. "You worried Reese is gonna walk in on us?"

"I shudder to think of his reaction to you debasing yourself." Avery shudders at that while Graves continues, voice low, "In fact, I imagine he'd be upset that you're treating me so unkindly."

"I'm not— ah, unkind," Avery argues, retort made less effective by adding another finger inside himself. If anything, he has a feeling Reese would be pretty jealous to walk in on this. Or maybe he'd try to micromanage the whole thing by telling Avery exactly how to fuck Graves.

He groans. "Can we shut up about Reese now, please?"

Graves is laser focused on Avery's body. "All right." It's not a concession, Avery thinks, it's permission, and even with Graves tied down and fully clothed, he still seems like the one who's in control.

Avery's free hand slips down to palm between Graves' legs. He pulses under Avery's hand like a silent plea; Graves is quiet while the pressure under his clothes speaks a lot for him. 

When Avery eases his fingers out, he murmurs at the feeling of emptiness and Graves' body jolts underneath him. His wrists look raw where the aluminum meets skin. Graves hisses helplessly while Avery eases Graves' clothes down his thighs, his exposed dick twitching in the cool air. Graves allows himself a long thin exhale, head tossed back. 

Avery keeps his eyes locked below Graves' waist, reaching for the bottle again. It's tempting to just drop his head and take Graves in his mouth, but he remembers Graves doesn't like that so much. They'd tried that before, on this same couch even. But Graves admitted after a few exciting and frustrating minutes that, although he appreciated Avery's enthusiasm, it was difficult for him to lose control like this. It was a hit to Avery's self-confidence to say the least, although Graves had graciously made it up to him by fucking him into the floor.

The little whimpers Graves makes now definitely help his confidence too.

Avery keeps his mouth to himself and runs his slick fingers along Graves' cock. It jumps in his hand, Graves' body seized with being touched. Avery glances to his face and is pinned by the heated look staring back at him.

The moment's interrupted by a crash and a shriek from downstairs. They both freeze, Avery distantly aware of his arousal as he remembers the cafe's recent attacks. Luckily, laughter drifts upstairs too. Something must have fell, the cats have a nasty habit lately of getting underfoot right when someone is juggling a heavy tray.

Finley's loud, unintelligible chatter trails up the stairs. Maybe she's heading to Graves' apartment to ask for Avery's help cleaning up. Maybe she's hoping she'll walk in on a scene like this and snap a couple photos ("Not for the blog, jeez! You want me to get banned from the server?"), before excusing herself with zero guilt.

Her voice fades again and Avery lets the cold pit in his stomach flood with desire again.

He presses his thumb to the slit of Graves' dick, a parting gesture that makes Graves' legs twist underneath him. He lifts himself on his knees, lining up his body to Graves'. They fit together in a familiar, filling stroke, but— the air goes out of the entire room as he sits. It's different from this angle. Avery lifts and lowers his body again while Graves gasps something too low and desperate for him to hear.

He's not sure if he's been riding Graves for seconds or hours, palms against Graves' chest and dreamily rolling his hips in circles, when Landry's voice reaches them. Avery's fallen asleep on this couch to that sound, but right now it's a hell of a lot less comforting. He hears his friend's voice in his chest, between his own stifled moans, and bites down hard on his lower lip.

Graves' eyes are pinned on his anxious expression. 

"Now you don't want him to hear you," Graves points out. There's not much victory in getting a guy who's usually annoyingly obtuse so twisted up that he's saying the obvious, considering that Graves sounds _way_ too in control for how Avery feels right now.

"'C-Course I don't."

Reese showing up would be annoying, yeah, and Finley would be extremely embarrassing. But Landry is definitely the kind of guy who'd hear sex noises and valiantly misinterpret them as people in distress. Avery has a blinding flash of his friend heroically throwing open the door only to find the two of them mid-screw. It'd be funny if he wasn't sure it'd end in a mortified Landry burying himself in mindless construction work until he nailed his hand to a board.

Landry's voice drifts away. Graves' breathing is wild under him, in heavy, wet pants. The sliver of control he had evaporates. Avery watches his hands flex weakly.

Avery grinds down, ass flush to Graves' hips. It drags an uncontrolled sound from Graves' throat, probably loud enough to hear in the kitchen. Luckily, Mason wouldn't bother investigating. This kind of thing is none of her business and she'd wanna keep it that way. Avery rocks his hips in a long, lingering motion. Although maybe tomorrow morning when Avery goes down to grab coffee, Mason might put a hand on his shoulder. Sorta like a 'Congrats on the fucking' gesture. Or maybe she'd dig her fingers into his skin in a more 'Keep it the hell down' gesture. Mason's always been a tough person for Avery to read.

"Avery," Graves practically whines when Avery lifts his hips, pulling away. Graves' mouth is open. Even his neck is flushed. Avery has a feeling if he pried off that sweater and forced aside the shirt underneath, Graves would be pink all down his chest. His milkish pale skin turns a cute rosy shade like this. Probably when it's pinched too.

Avery drops against him, resuming the rhythm from before. Maybe they can try pinching next time. 

The couch they're on is expensive and expertly selected for the room's decor but nowhere near big enough for this. Maybe the couch at my place would be better, Avery thinks dreamily before the bizarrely sobering image of apologizing to his aunt for the stains.

One of Graves' legs hangs off this too small sofa, knee bent and foot leveraged to the floor. It can't be comfortable, but then it's extremely useful, giving Graves the grounding to thrust up into him with sudden efficiency. Avery wraps a fist around himself, pumping desperately in tandem with Graves' hips. The hastily made garbage ties were a courtesy, and without them Avery can already imagine where they'd be: Graves crowding him to the wall, fucking him hard enough Avery's legs would give out if not for the body pinning him up. The wall could probably only absorb some of the moans, the slick sounds of their skin colliding, and for all of Graves' earlier warnings about being discreet, that would definitely be way too loud for their co-workers not to notice.

 _Wait. Is it weird to think up all these crazy hypotheticals in the middle of banging?_ Avery wonders just before breaking apart. He pitches forward, body clenching around Graves. They lost any sense of rhythm a few hypotheticals ago, and Avery feels off balance as Graves fucks him through it, stuttering and sloppy, two things his boss isn't. Struggling to steady his breathing, Avery watches Graves catches up to that splintering point, head tipping back to bare his throat. Warmth rushes through him as Graves shudders and goes still. 

Clean-up has never been Avery's favorite part of any activity, so he avoids it for now, easing down over Graves' chest. Their damp breaths stagger along together, Avery's hands drifting listlessly under Graves' sweater, the skin there peeking out from under the hem— pink, just like Avery suspected.

He smiles, indulgent and boneless before Graves clears his throat.

"As much as I'm sure you need your rest, my hands are going numb." 

"Shit!" Avery scrambles up to unwrap the binds from Graves' wrists, muttering more curses under his breath. "I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

"I believe I'll live." Graves mouth quirks upwards, bringing his arms down. He rubs the abused skin over his wrist; his hands were turning a startlingly different color compared to the rest of his skin. 

"That was dumb," Avery sighs. His boyfriend lifts Avery's hands to his lips, a gesture terrifyingly tender considering where they've been. This kind of affection. Avery's still not used to it. 

Totally not complaining though.

"Still thinking about docking my pay?" Avery manages a tentative grin back.

Graves' smile widens. 

"Are you asking to be paid for your latest services?" Avery wrenches his hands back with a shriek loud enough they definitely heard it in the cafe.

**Author's Note:**

> for Avery's birthday he gets an older boyfriend and pointless smut


End file.
